


First Fallen, Twice Shy

by Feekins



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aromantic Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Comfort No Hurt, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hugs, M/M, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Queerplatonic Relationships, Snow, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feekins/pseuds/Feekins
Summary: This time of year always messed with Crowley, and today was no exception. Part of him wished he could see the magic in all that snow - their first at the cottage, no less. The rest of him heaved a 6,000-year-old sigh the moment he laid eyes on it. It was only a matter of time before the heaviness and the haziness settled in...OR: Snow sucks when you're partially serpent. Aziraphale finds ways to make it less so.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 164





	First Fallen, Twice Shy

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier this month, Suga tweeted [this lovely, lovely Crowley](https://twitter.com/sggg_09/status/1206241753050730496?s=09)...and sometimes, when fanart kicks your creative juices into overdrive, you just go with it. So I did. And this winter oneshot is the sweet, sweet result.
> 
> Special thanks, once again, to the Ace Omens discord for continuing to encourage and enable me to indulge pretty much every writing whim I get - and to all y'all who continue to give my works the time of day! Enjoy, and let me know what you think ♡

All around, the old cottage settled as if it was sighing. The grandfather clock, having struck 9am not too long ago, tick-tocked away in the other room. Footsteps upstairs signaled Aziraphale was finally awake. Normally, the familiarity of these sounds was comforting, but today...was _different_. Crowley had suspected as much the moment he'd woken up - and sure enough, that suspicion was confirmed the moment he'd wandered down to the kitchen.

That was a few hours ago. Still, he stood there, brooding.

Long arms crossed tightly, black-nailed hands tucked in at his sides, Crowley scowled out the window by the breakfast nook. The sky wasn't supposed to do that, look _that_ pink. So what if it was normal for this type of weather? It was ominous and strange and it made him uneasy and _he didn't like it_. It was almost as bad as the powdery whiteness covering everything as far as the eye could see. Just peering out at it, Crowley was unconsciously making the fabric of his shirt slightly thicker. The cold posed no real threat to him, of course, but it _always_ did this, _always_ messed with him. Right now, radiating out from the most primal corner of Crowley's mind was this _heaviness_ , a slightly-sleepy fog that nagged at him, grabbed his ankles and tried to drag him down. Again, it didn't endanger him, but it had gotten _quite_ old a very, very long time ago.

 _Bloody serpent-like tendencies_...

A shiver - not from the cold, but rather an attempt to shake off the effect it had on him. It was only partially successful. The white world beyond the window was _mocking_ him, he was _sure_ of it. Lip curling, Crowley bared his teeth, gave an involuntary hiss.

"I'd say 'isn't it beautiful,'" came Aziraphale's voice - soft, slightly tired, mostly teasing - from somewhere behind him, "but I know you better than that."

"It _is_ beautiful," Crowley replied moodily. "Just as long as it stays _out there_."

Approaching footsteps, quiet and shuffling. From the sound of it, Aziraphale was wearing those new slippers Crowley had just gotten him. They were _ridiculous_ things, all fluffy and shaped like a pair of corgi bottoms. Aziraphale had taken them out of the box and held them up with an amused-incredulous "what am I supposed to do with _these?!_ " But Crowley had seen the way the angel's eyes had lingered on them when they'd passed the shoe store, _knew_ that little smile he'd hidden when Crowley had next spoken up - to say _what_ , he couldn't remember. But after that, how could he _not_ surprise Aziraphale with them? Besides, since they'd moved in together, he'd worn through the soles of his old ones _twice!_ And they were so _faded_ and _thin_ , and the corgi ones were _so much more insulating_ and, silly as they were, somehow they seemed _so_ Aziraphale's style, and, and, and-!

"And _you_ stay _in here?_ "

The demon gave a slow, solemn nod, glaring just a _little_ harder at the snow.

"Exa-! _Angel!_ "

The next thing he knew, Crowley was being squeezed, his crossed arms pinned to his torso as Aziraphale hugged him from behind. As a matter of course, Crowley struggled - at first. With growling protests, he tried to squirm out of Aziraphale's grasp, but the angel was too strong, holding him fast - not tight enough to hurt, just enough to make him feel smothered and the _tiniest_ bit overwhelmed.

At the same time, oh, but Aziraphale was so _warm_...

Perhaps that was why Crowley accepted his fate sooner than usual.

"Really, darling," said Aziraphale, laughter in his voice as he settled his chin against the junction of Crowley's neck and shoulder. "Must you _always_ make a scene like this?"

A huff of displeasure - not very convincing, but it was the _principle_ of the thing that was important.

"You _snuck up_ on me."

That...came out a little more petulant than intended - not that Crowley could bring himself to care. In fact, with every passing second, he found himself caring less and less. Aziraphale was too soft, too warm, too nice...too _good_ to him.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't make it so easy to," came Aziraphale's smart reply.

A bastard, yes, but a good one - one who finally relented, loosening his hold so it was comfortably snug, just tight enough to feel grounding. So what if Crowley let himself lean back into him _just_ a little? It was hard not to, feeling the warmth seep into tense corporation and tender heart.

Aziraphale always _did_ have a way of making it difficult to hold onto a sour mood.

"...London's probably a _nightmare_ right now," said Crowley - a distraction, and they both knew it - and in their faint reflection in the window, he saw Aziraphale smile.

"Good thing we live here."

"Out in the _winter wastelands_."

A shake of the head and a soundless snort, and then a wide yawn Crowley felt Aziraphale try to stifle against his shoulder. It made him yawn, too, reminded him of how _tired_ and _hazy_ he felt, which bothered him _tremendously_ because he _knew_ there was nothing either of them could do to make it go away - but at least it was harder to brood, now.

"...sleep well? Aziraphale?"

A nod, chin digging into Crowley's shoulder, but he didn't mind.

"What about you?"

A nod and a grimace...and it was only _kind of_ hard for him to make himself admit, "But I'll be a bit slower today. 'Cause of... _fnnmgh_." And here, Crowley freed a hand, giving the pristine winter scene outside a contemptuous wave, then tucked his hand up into the toasty refuge of his armpit.

Aziraphale nodded again, this time with an understanding hum. Concerned, caring eyes met Crowley's reflection's. It made an old, old part of him wish he hadn't left his sunglasses up on the bedside table. Guilt gnawed at another corner of his mind - guilt for making Aziraphale worry. The rest of Crowley was too busy allowing himself, little by little, to feel _safe_ and _secure_ and _loved_ and maybe even _deserving_ of love - particularly that of the man-shaped being whose plump, beautiful hands gave his forearms a little squeeze.

"Are you warm enough?"

There was an extra softness to Aziraphale's voice now. As it further soothed, smoothed out Crowley's rough edges, so too did it accept the things he didn't want to accept about himself. After all, it was disconcerting, his innate inability to truly overcome or compensate for the way the cold always slowed him down, and yet...

In conscious defiance of millennia-old paranoia, Crowley let his eyes slip shut, let himself relax a little more against the angel wrapped around him.

"I am _now_ ," he murmured.

"I'm glad to hear it," Aziraphale murmured back, so fond. His hold on Crowley loosened a little more, arms sliding down to wrap around his waist instead. "But, my dear...I'm not sure I can hold you like this _forever_."

Maybe it _was_ okay to do this, to give into that nagging, inexplicable exhaustion just seeing all that snow brought upon him. What _wasn't_ okay, as far as Crowley was concerned, was the implication that soon, that warmth at his back would withdraw, leaving him colder than before. _That_ , he wouldn't stand for. Uncrossing his arms, then, he held Aziraphale's in place, laced fingers with his.

"You could _try_ ," said Crowley - and he was pleased that he managed to do it in his extra-sly tempting voice despite a persistent sleep-scratchy throat.

"I could," said Aziraphale. "Or you could go bundle up by the fire while I put the kettle on."

"I'm n-! You...lit the fireplace?"

"I did!"

Now _that_ was tempting, and Aziraphale sounded so pleased with himself, and so _encouraging_...but with a growl-grumble, Crowley shook his head, gripped Aziraphale's hands a little tighter.

"Prefer my walking, talking heat lamp, thank you."

A little sigh, but not one of annoyance or frustration - there was _far_ too much fondness to it.

"In that case...well, we could always go the other way around - you holding me," said Aziraphale - in a tempting voice of his own.

At that, Crowley opened his eyes and give Aziraphale's reflection a mock-critical look - not even _trying_ to maintain smaller, human-like irises anymore.

"...You _do_ realize if you give me permission right now, angel, if you ever want to be rid of me, you'll have to pry me off with a crowbar."

"Now why would I _ever_ want that?"

" _Because._ " Crowley turned around in Aziraphale's arms to face him, letting him plainly see how out of it he undoubtedly looked, even though that sort of openness still made him fidget. "It's _always_ worse when it snows. And...I haven't let you see me this bad before."

Still, Aziraphale held him, hands meeting at the small of Crowley's back. Aziraphale held him and held his gaze, asking gently, brow furrowed, "And what _is_...'this bad?'"

The amount of love and care before him was almost too much to handle. With a whine of surrender, Crowley let his head drop down against Aziraphale's shoulder. His eyelids were heavy. The urge to hide away and curl up and do _nothing_ was getting hard to ignore, so much so that it was actually starting to make him anxious. He couldn't help it, he _never_ could.

But maybe that was okay, now.

As long as Aziraphale was there, Crowley would be okay.

"It's...I'm tired, but not in a sleepy way - 's'not something I can sleep off, anyhow." Making these admissions with his face pressed into Aziraphale's jumper, it was as if the angel himself was Crowley's confessional - not for sins, but for truths, for all the things he didn't like about himself. A soothingly warm hand came up to cradle the back of his head, and with that, Crowley fully gave in, his arms snaking around Aziraphale, clinging without fear of being pushed away, confessing without fear of rebuke. "I don't want to think. Or even _move_. And it's not even _being cold_ that's doing it. And I _hate_ it."

"I'm sorry, love..."

Whispered words, warm embrace. He would have been more than happy to stay like that for _hours_...but Aziraphale took a step back, and with another whine, Crowley clung more tightly. The hand at the small of his back gave a gentle tug. It took a few more tugs for him to realize Aziraphale was prompting him to follow, and so, he slid a foot forward until it hit a fuzzy corgi bottom slipper.

"That's it, come along," Aziraphale whispered with an audible smile, taking another step back, which Crowley was careful to match.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere more comfortable." Step backward.

"Mm..." Despite a slight stumble as he took another matching step forward, Crowley nuzzled Aziraphale's shoulder, breathed in the mellow notes of one of his older colognes. " _You're_ comfortable."

"Perhaps, but...let's see..." Another step backward, Aziraphale guiding Crowley to shift direction ever so slightly. "...What would you say to having me _and_ the couch _and_ a blanket or two?"

Somehow, it both was and wasn't a temptation. So natural, the way Aziraphale was offering, enabling, _giving him permission_ to do what unnatural instinct clamored for within him. On one hand, Crowley was so uncomfortably aware of how _off_ he felt...but on the other, did it even matter?

An eager little nod, Crowley's hands linking behind Aziraphale's back.

"But don't let go."

"My dear boy, I wouldn't _dream_ of it."

Slow as Crowley felt, it wasn't as if Aziraphale was pushing him to do the impossible. In fact, every step was a little easier to take than the last, the two of them slowly but surely moving across the kitchen, then into the living room. A string of minor miracles was the only explanation for why neither of them stubbed their toes or stumbled bad enough to fall - or perhaps Aziraphale was just that good of a guide. Personally, Crowley was inclined to believe the latter. He _was_ , of course, the slightest bit biased - even _before_ they made one more turn and stopped, the fireplace crackling behind him.

" _Crowley_..."

A warm sing-song voice in his ear. Glorious heat at both his front and back. How could Crowley resist giving the angel's shoulder another near-drowsy nuzzle?

" _Mmm_..."

"Crowley," Aziraphale tried again. The name was still slightly lilted, but this time around, it was a definite proper bid for attention. "I'm afraid you'll have to... _disengage_ for a moment."

"Nuh."

A light but insistent pat at the back of Crowley's head. In response, he clung to Aziraphale all the more fiercely - and Aziraphale didn't even _try_ to suppress the chuckle Crowley felt more than heard reverberate through his chest and throat.

"Come on! Just for a few seconds, then you can latch right back on, I promise."

"Nuh-uh. Said not to let go, remember?"

"Well, _yes_ , but...!"

But _nothing_. They'd done this enough times for Crowley to know he'd already won. If Aziraphale _truly_ hadn't felt like playing this game, he wouldn't have prompted Crowley, mid-cling, to follow his lead towards the living room in the first place. This, right here and now, was _indulgence_ , simple and sweet - and within seconds, Aziraphale let out a sigh of feigned resignation, both hands coming to Crowley's waist and tugging him just the tiniest bit forward.

"Okay, steady on. I'm going to sit down...and now, you bring your-! Crowley, _do_ behave!"

The impish little grin on his face grew wider at Aziraphale's amused scolding, Crowley having taken the opportunity to straddle his lap - simply because the opportunity had presented itself, and it was just _so_ much fun when they benignly messed with one another like this. It was a sort of comfort, too, knowing that even when he wasn't feeling quite himself, Crowley could still make Aziraphale laugh and smile. To that end, then, he gave Aziraphale's shoulder and neck a particularly enthusiastic nuzzle.

" _Really_ , darling," Aziraphale laughed, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you were more cat than serpent!"

" _Meow_."

"Or perhaps the world's first snake-cat hybrid."

"Manticore?"

"No, my dear, that's a _scorpion's_ tail."

Crowley shrugged, following the guidance of Aziraphale's hands as they turned together.

"Snake, scorpion - _both_ venomous. Practically the same thing, if you think about it."

"Oh, I beg to differ - _perfect_ , just like that. And now..."

One more tug, and as Aziraphale laid back, Crowley let himself collapse on top of him - and yes, this was _infinitely_ more comfortable than cuddling in the middle of the kitchen. It became even more so when, with an ethereal chime, a throw blanket that was as soft as the one that had been folded on the back of the couch and twice as big settled over the two of them.

"And I do believe," Aziraphale murmured, his hand finally returning to Crowley's head, "the creature you're looking for is a chimera."

Another shrug as the closeness and warmth made his thoughts drag their feet just a little more.

"Same thing."

"They are _not_."

"Doesn't matter," Crowley grinned, eyes closed against Aziraphale's chest. "I'm neither. Just a Crowley."

"My most _favorite_ creature of all..."

Beside them, the fire gave a pop, then another. There was a rustle of a log shifting as it continued to burn. Aziraphale - Crowley's other, closer, _preferred_ heat source - was combing his fingers through his hair, his other hand still a warm weight on his waist. It took an inordinate amount of time for Crowley to recognize the sensation of skin on skin. His shirt must have ridden up at some point. No wonder that hand was so warm......warm like the soft body beneath him, lovely and plush. All on its own, it padded all of Crowley's sharp edges - a bony wrist pinned behind Aziraphale's back, a sharp elbow and jutting hip bones as the demon curled up atop him just a little more, letting out a long, content sigh.

Puzzle pieces. Yin and yang. Clichés that had become such due to their prevalence, which was due to their truth - one that could be traced all the way back to Eden's wall. But really, who cared if it was cliché? Aziraphale and Crowley, cuddled together under a blanket in front of the fire on the dawn of their first snowfall at the cottage - it felt _right_. As if, perhaps, She truly _had_ made them for each other.

At a length, Aziraphale murmured, "Talking of which..."

"Mm?"

"Did you know snakes don't go into _true_ hibernation?"

Yes, in fact, Crowley _did_ know that, which Aziraphale _definitely_ knew. Still, the demon gave an intrigued hum, neither opening his eyes nor lifting his head from the angel's chest - which, of course, was _more_ than fine.

"Once it becomes too cold," Aziraphale explained softly - as if he was reading one of his many snake books out loud as a bedtime story, "they hide away and slow their metabolism down drastically. That way, they conserve energy through the winter."

 _Pop, pop_ went the fire - but that wasn't what made Crowley finally angle his head back. When he opened his eyes - a surprisingly difficult task, now, though he didn't quite mind it anymore - the first thing he noticed was the blanket. It _was_ , in fact, the one that had been folded up on the back of the sofa. More interesting was the fact that, when covering them up, Aziraphale had apparently seen fit to pull the blanket over their heads. He gazed back at Crowley now, all warmth, the muted light of the fire filtering through to dance upon his smile - one that Crowley slowly, almost sleepily returned.

"Is that what we're doing here, angel? Hibernating, but not really?"

"That's the intent, yes," said Aziraphale, his tone so loving and peaceful it was practically hypnotic. And as Crowley's eyes closed, Aziraphale's hand left his head, came around his back, hugged him close. "For as long as you need, love."

 _Clever, beautiful bastard_.

On some level, the way this season affected him would always be a bother to him. Aziraphale saw this, and saw things differently - and helped Crowley do so, as well. Thus, for the first time since the 19th century, the demon stopped fighting. He let the mental fog roll in, gave himself over to urge to be absolutely, unapologetically lazy - because, really, this _was_ okay.

A near-silly smile. Words spoken barely above a whisper.

"Thank you, Aziraphale..."

Lips against his forehead. Words he heard, but didn't even _begin_ to process, because here - curled up in a blanket den that made it _so_ much easier to deal with being what he was, with the one person who made him _actually_ consider accepting even the ugliest and most irritating things about himself, because if Aziraphale loved him, and Aziraphale was _perfect_ , maybe he _wasn't_ all that bad, after all - Crowley was home, and that was all that mattered.


End file.
